


A Christmas Gift

by killingxrangers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Just Sex, No Relationship, set after the war, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingxrangers/pseuds/killingxrangers
Summary: Hermione definitely didn't expect this outcome when she went to the Potter's annual Christmas event.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 7
Kudos: 186





	A Christmas Gift

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend eile and her terrible, terrible taste in American football teams

“You sure you’re doing okay?” Ginny frowned as she watched Hermione finish her fourth glass of firewhiskey, three month old James swaddled warmly in her arms. It was only the two of them in the Potter’s kitchen, everyone else spread out throughout the first level of the Grimmauld Place. The townhome had very little reminders of the desolate building they had first come to in their fifth year of school, and now felt downright homey. Of course, the curtained off portrait ruined that from time to time, but even that had become something they are mostly accustomed to. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Gin, but thank you,” Hermione said with a forced smile, moving to grab the half full bottle of the drink and add some more to her cup. Three glasses in and her hands were no longer shaky. Maybe another three and she’d feel like she wasn’t suffocating any longer. “What are the others up to?” 

“Harry and Ron are trying to show Teddy how to fly his new broom in the living room. Course, Andromeda is stressing over if he’ll fall or not.” Ginny knew perfectly well that wasn’t what Hermione wanted to know, and her pitiful smile said as much as she continued with, “Bellatrix is watching. Still sitting on the couch.”

As she had been doing all night, and was the sole reason for Hermione’s unusually heavy drinking. Harry had called her the night before to give her the heads up that Andromeda had asked to bring Bellatrix along for the holidays. Harry had agreed only on the condition that everyone else agreed, and so he had spoke to Ron and Ginny, who had both said the exact same thing: only if Hermione was fine with it. 

She had said she was, had not permitted herself to consider any sort of alternatives as she agreed that it would be acceptable for Bellatrix to join them on their annual Christmas get together. 

It had been six years since the War, all of them into their twenties and long since settled into their normal lives. Ginny was a prominent Quidditch player, Ron and Harry worked with Hermione at the Ministry, and they were happy. Dark days were forced into the back of their mind, little more than unpleasant thoughts that popped up every few months and they brushed away quickly. 

Two years after Voldemort’s defeat, members of the Ministry had come together to discuss what should be done about the remaining Death Eaters- keep them in prison for the rest of their lives, or attempt to rehabilitate them. A few were chosen for a trial basis, and after their success, more were brought in. A year after that, they had selected Bellatrix Black neé Lestrange. They had had enough success cases to deem attempt her worthy enough. It had taken roughly eighteen months before they released her into her sister Narcissa’s home under intense observation. 

Hermione had no idea Bellatrix and Andromeda had even spoken, let alone were close enough once more for the younger sister to bring her along to the Potter’s. Andromeda had been a staple in the holidays since the War ended, as she wanted Teddy to know his godfather, and one day wanted him to be able to hear stories from others about the bravery of his parents. Hermione had always loved Andromeda’s visits, until now. 

But, she had to admit, Bellatrix had been fine. Highly antisocial, but her silence was a reprieve, and Hermione could feel everyone’s stress levels rapidly decreasing as the night went on. Hermione’s did not, and so she had turned to firewhiskey. 

Ginny placed a gentle hand overtop of Hermione’s. “If you’re uncomfortable, no one will blame you for wanting her to leave.” 

She knew that. And knew she would blame herself. It’s bene six years. Hermione was a strong, grown woman now, capable of facing down bigoted old men in the Ministry courts. She could face one reformed woman. Even if that woman had carved such a hideous slur into her arm less than a decade ago. 

“No, I don’t want to do that,” she responded, keeping that fake smile in place. Desperate to change the subject, Hermione leaned in to run a gentle finger over James’ soft, chubby cheek. “He’s such a cute sleeper.” 

It worked, as she knew it would. Ginny beamed down at her son. “You say that now until he’s screaming in the middle of the night to be fed, or changed, or just held.” Her words, despite their attempt at being annoyed, held nothing but maternal love for her child. “He really is perfect, isn’t he?” 

“Yes, he is,” Hermione laughed, and watched Ginny take James back into the living room to join the others. Hermione decided to hang back a moment and get her bearings before going back to the festivities. 

It was the night before Christmas, and as usual all of the friends had gathered to celebrate with one another early before spending the next day with their respect families. Now that Teddy was (in Harry and Ron’s opinion) a fun age to play with, most of the gifts opened had been toy after toy, until Teddy finally unwrapped the new Quidditch broom, and had been soaring through the house ever since while the adults tried to pass around their own gifts. It was lovely, or would have been, had it not been for- 

“It seems my presence here isn’t appreciated, Granger.”

For her. 

Hermione refused to let herself jump at the sudden intrusion of the last person she wanted to be alone with, and struggled to keep her voice neutral as she responded. “Your presence here is fine.” She’d be damned if she let the woman know how she truly felt. Bellatrix would not hold any sort of power over her any longer. 

“Is that why you’ve spent half the night hiding in the kitchen, and the other half drinking all of the firewhiskey?” Bellatrix motioned with a pale, slightly scarred hand towards the bottle still in Hermione’s grasp. “Yes, it certainly seems like I am most accepted here.” 

“I don’t care about you being here or not, Bellatrix,” Hermione finally snapped, letting her anger and the alcohol get the best of her. “I pay your existence no mind at all. I want to enjoy the holidays with my friends, and will not let you being here ruin that.” 

With the black heels she always wore, Bellatrix was an inch or two taller than Hermione, who stuck to flat soled shoes almost consistently. It gave her the height needed to stare down at Hermione, quiet for a moment, her face almost grave looking as she pondered whatever the hell it was she was so clearly thinking about. 

It gave Hermione time to stare back at the woman, something she had not had the option to do since the court trials years ago, when Bellatrix had let insanity grip her, had screamed to whatever being was listening how she would have her revenge on her master’s death. She had looked terrible then, gaunt cheeks, hollowed eyes, shackled arms and legs, hair a matted mess. 

She didn’t look terrible now, as much as it annoyed Hermione to think so, this woman looked positively radiant. Her hair was pulled into a relatively contained bun, only a few curly strands escaping, her eyes completely clear and wholly dark, her cheeks full and a bit flushed. Her skin, while naturally pale, didn’t have the sickly parlor it had held before. And, the main improvement, through one spell or portion or another, her teeth had been fixed. That alone did wonders for Bellatrix’s appearance, and Hermione blamed it on the copious amounts of whiskey in her stomach that she kept staring. 

“I never did apologize to you,” Bellatrix said suddenly, her voice strong and confident but low, so only the two of them could be privy to this conversation and no-one else. “For what I did that day in Malfoy Manor.” 

Hermione’s throat constricted immediately, and she tightened her grip on the bottle. “I don’t-” she had been about to say she didn’t want an apology, but that wasn't the truth, was it? She had wanted an apology, a _something_ , for so long, and now here it was. “It scarred. The word you carved. It scarred my skin.” 

For her part, Bellatrix looked moderately shameful. “It was an enchanted knife. I knew it was going to scar. I’m... sorry, Hermione. I have done a lot of terrible things throughout my life, and that is something that has always stuck with me.”

“I... I hated you for so long. It made it so easy, with you being in prison and-and...” the alcohol made the words easier to come out, much more freer than they would have otherwise. “And then you went and got _better_ and made it _worse_.” 

“Andromeda told me you might not be receptive to my being here.” Bellatrix momentarily looked away from Hermione, her dark gaze moving all around the kitchen. “I don’t want to ruin your holidays anymore than I already have. I can leave. Let you enjoy the rest of the time tonight.” 

She meant it too, Hermione could tell. For whatever reason, but it guilt or remorse or whatever, Bellatrix was truly offering to leave to ensure Hermione might be able to salvage some sort of enjoyment from what was left of this night. 

It was that thought that had Hermione pausing, staring once more at the woman for a moment before, somewhat hesitantly, saying, “No... Stay, Bellatrix. You should enjoy the night with your sister and Teddy as well.” The logical part of her brain was telling her this was fine, fine, fine, Bellatrix was reformed and safe and wouldn’t be planning to go on any sort of murder/torture spree anytime soon. The much more emotional part of her was saying to run, run, run. 

She chose to drown that part of herself out with firewhiskey, and finished off her fourth cup before holding the bottle out to Bellatrix. 

“Want some?” 

* * *

Hermione was well and truly drunk, as was most of her friends. Ron and Ginny had, collectively, broken eight plates and two glasses until Harry, the only somewhat sober one (someone has to take care of baby James, right?) ushered them both up the stairs and into the guest room and their room respectively. He gave Hermione a lingering look as if to ask if her being left in the room with Andromeda, a sleeping Teddy, and Bellatrix was fine, to which she had simply nodded her head, probably a bit more sloppy than normally. 

Teddy, taking up one section of the couch as he curled into a ball, and Andromeda, taking up the spot beside him and rubbing his back soothingly, sipped from her glass of spiked eggnog, her and Bellatrix thoroughly engrossed in a conversation about one topic or another. 

It was late into the night, and Hermione was surprised to find that she actually was enjoying herself tonight. The firewhiskey definitely played a huge part in that, but that didn’t matter, not when she was sitting beside Bellatrix without an ounce of fear in her veins, and holding a civil, playful conversation. 

They’d been talking most of the night since they shared drinks in the kitchen, and Hermione found herself enthralled by listening to the older woman speak. It turned out, she hadn’t been very busy over the last few years, doing very little more than simply spending time with her family, mainly Narcissa, Draco, his wife, and their newborn son Scorpius. 

It was most likely the alcohol that had loosened her lips, but at one point Bellatrix had admitted to regretting how uninvolved she had been in her family’s life while she was so focused on Voldemort and the Wars. Hermione had commented when Bellatrix called Voldemort by his name and not the Dark Lord, but just noted that as more evidence as her evolvement. 

Now though, Hermione was aside Bellatrix on the loveseat, glasses in both of their hands, and Bellatrix’s free arm thrown over the back of the couch behind Hermione. Andromeda, perhaps the most sober one, had smiled at that development but kept any sort of comment to herself. 

“It’s after midnight,” she sighed, looking down at the watch adorning her wrist. “I need to get Teddy home and in bed before he wakes up and is afraid Santa won’t know where he is tonight.” She laughed as she stood and bent back down to scoop Teddy into her arms, grunting only a bit at his weight. He stirred, but otherwise didn’t move aside from snuggling closer to his guardian’s body. “Bella, are you joining me?” 

Bellatrix looked to Hermione then, staring at her with slightly hazy eyes before looking back to her sister. “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. If you don’t mind, Hermione?” 

No, no, Hermione did not mind at all. She said as much, and watched the way one corner of Bellatrix’s mouth quirked up at the answer. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight Hermione, Bella. Merry Christmas,” Andromeda said before she apparated away, not having a free hand to use the floo and throw powder back to their home. 

There was a lull in the conversation then, not quite uncomfortable, but definitely not the silence two friends might find themselves sitting in, and Hermione found herself at a loss. She should be fleeing, she should want to go to one of Harry and Ginny’s guest rooms and collapse onto the bed into an immediate deep sleep that only her current level of drunkenness can reach. But she didn’t want to do that at all. She wanted to remain right here, closer to Bellatrix than she has been in years, and continue whatever the hell it was they were even talking about before Andromeda left, though Hermione for the life of her cannot remember. 

It seemed Bellatrix couldn’t either, for she started a new conversation, one about Hermione’s work at the Ministry, claiming she had done enough talking about herself and wanted to hear what Hermione had been up to, in more detail than the Prophet covered during their occasional piece about her. 

They fell back into conversation as easily as if they’d been friends for years, easier perhaps than even Hermione and Harry and Ron. It didn’t hurt that the alcohol bottles passed freely between the two, and Hermione was definitely struggling to keep her eyes open the longer they talked, struggled to remain focused on the conversation at hand. 

It was damn near impossible when all Hermione could truly focus on was the way Bellatrix’s mouth moved as she talked, or how her wildly curly hair framed her face, or how nice she looked, or how she smelled like-like... cedar? Was that cedar? Cedar and vanilla, maybe? 

Oh god, Hermione leaned in closer to smell Bellatrix. There was no stopping her though, not when she jerked forward too quickly. She probably would have fallen completely over had it not been for Bellatrix grabbing her, keeping her relatively stable. But it brought them much closer than before, and- 

It was definitely cedar and vanilla, and was quite possibly infinitely more intoxicating than all the alcohol currently coursing through Hermione’s system. It made her mind hazy, her breathing erratic, her heart quick. 

If asked, Hermione couldn’t say for sure who kissed who in that moment. One minute, they had been talking, faces close, and then the next, the two of them were pressed entirely together, mouths smashed against the other. It didn’t long long for either of them to groan at the feeling of their bodies touching completely, nor did it take long for hands to begin wandering. 

Hermione could feel Bellatrix’s hands moving from where she had been gripping the back of her neck to her collarbone, then past her chest, to grip tightly onto her waist, nails digging in almost painfully. Bellatrix pressed against Hermione’s chest, forcing her to lay back on couch. The older woman didn't hesitate before following, pressing themselves together once more and kissing intensely. 

Heat continuously rushed through her body with every new swipe of Bellatrix’s tongue, every caress of her hands, and bite to her bottom lip. It was all centered between her legs, and she couldn’t help but roll her hips upwards, desperate for some sort of traction. Her movements pulled a groan from Bellatrix’s mouth, the noise swallowed by her own, but each roll of her hips was met with a matching, equally desperate return of Bellatrix’s. It all culminated to a quick and demanding build up, and Hermione needed _more_. 

Bellatrix ravished Hermione’s neck, pulling low moans from the back of her throat with each nip of her teeth or swipe of her tongue over the heated skin. “Shh, Hermione, you’ll wake the whole house,” she teasingly chastised after a particularly loud moan when the older woman roughly gripped Hermione’s breast in her hand, squeezing it tightly as Hermione arched her back and moaned again. “On second thought, keep that up. I don’t give a fuck if you wake the whole neighborhood if you keep making those noises.” 

As she spoke, her hands moved from Hermione’s breast to the button of her jeans, grumbling about the _stupidity_ of the choice of attire as she successfully got the zipper down and began jerking the garment down Hermione’s thighs, pausing her assault on Hermione’s neck to move down her body for better access. 

“Eager, are we?” Bellatrix mocked as Hermione helpfully tried to shimmy out of her pants, her movements a bit sloppy from both the large amounts of alcohol and the delirious, hazy mindset Bellatrix had drug her into. 

“Stop talking,” Hermione groaned, the noise shifting quickly from annoyance to one of absolute pleasure when Bellatrix placed a light, teasing kiss on the inside of Hermione’s knee, making her thighs jerk and her muscles tighten. She could feel the way her underwear stuck uncomfortably to her center, though she couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed at wondering if Bellatrix could tell. Not when the woman was looking at her with eyes so dark she couldn't make out the pupil from the iris, or the way she licked her full lips, slightly swollen from how hard she had kissed Hermione. 

They should go upstairs, or somewhere literally anywhere else that wasn’t such public area, but any sort of rational thought that might be left within her ran for the hills when Bellatrix nestled between her spread legs, looking up at her from her thighs. “Ready?”

Hermione had never agreed to anything quicker in her entire fucking life, not when Bellatrix was staring at her like that and already pulling down her underwear. 

“Oh, definitely eager,” the dark witch chuckled as she slid the definitely ruined underwear down pale, shaking legs, never taking her eyes off of Hermione’s center. The only warning Hermione got was, “Fuck, Hermione,” before a quick and eager tongue swiped along her folds, Hermione jerking madly upward at the sudden contact. 

She hadn’t been expecting it at all, not right away, and she definitely wasn’t expecting the brutal way Bellatrix shoved her down with a tight grip on her hips right as her tongue dipped as deep inside of her as it could go. 

“ _Bellatrix_!” Hermione cried out, her hand flying to cover her mouth as the other scrambled to find any sort of purchase on the couch, needing to grab something to ground herself as Bellatrix fucked her with her tongue with abandon. “Shit!” 

Left in only her shirt and bra, Hermione still felt incredibly overheated, and she struggled more than she’d like to admit to jerk her shirt over her head and throw it somewhere off to the side as Bellatrix pulled her tongue out suddenly, which earned a desperate whine from Hermione at the loss. “Wha-?”

She got her answer a moment later, when Bellatrix’s mouth moved to envelop her clit, and Hermione’s entire body spasmed. A moan, filthy and loud enough for their friends upstairs to hear, escaped her as two fingers forced themselves inside of her with no warning, a tortuously slow pace being taken up that did not match the ferocity at which Bellatrix worshiped her clit. 

The difference in paces threw Hermione off, and her hips bucked without rhythm. Sweat was starting to make her back sticky, her foot kept tumbling off the edge of the couch the more she wiggled, and she wouldn’t change a single fucking thing about this, not as Bellatrix began curling her fingers on each thrust. 

“ _Oh my god._ ” Hermione’s bottom lip was sucked between her teeth as she bit it hard enough to taste blood. Her hands worked themselves to her bra to free herself of that last barrier, and the moment that too dropped onto the floor her hands flew to her own breasts, grasping and pinching her nipples for added pleasure. 

She kept jerking her hips into Bellatrix’s face, her thighs pressed against either side of the woman’s head, blocking her ears and most definitely partially suffocating her. That position didn’t last long before Bellatrix was pulling away once more, and Hermione’s body tried to follow without her realizing, her hips chasing that fucking magical tongue. 

“On your hands and knees,” Bellatrix commanded, the fingers no longer deep inside Hermione. She didn’t need to wait long, for Hermione didn’t hesitate before shifting into the new position, wiggling until her ass was in the air and her head was bowed down. Her thighs were slick with her excitement from moving, her overheated skin only slightly cooled from the wetness. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moaned when two fingers shoved themselves back inside without any sort of warning, forced in as deep as they could go and curling, making Hermione’s legs shake even more, the arch of her back faltering at the overwhelming sensation. The new angle gave Bellatrix the ability to hit newer, deeper spots, and it wasn’t longer before Hermione was tightening around the digits, her orgasm quickly approaching. 

“Do not come without my approval,” Bellatrix warned darkly, her free hand squeezing Hermione’s asscheek roughly, enough so that Hermione knew if she looked in the morning, she’d have crescent marks from the woman’s nails. “You better not,” she added, upon feeling how tight Hermione had gotten. 

“I can’t-” Hermione whined, her eyes squeezed tight, her heart stopped dead in her chest. Bellatrix did not slow did, did not stop twisting her fingers inside of Hermione. “ _Please_ -” 

Bellatrix slipped a third finger in just as roughly and Hermione’s arms gave her, her face and chest collapsing onto the couch in what was definitely highly undignified. She couldn’t find it in herself to care in the slightest, not as Bellatrix’s free hand scratched hard down her back, surely leaving reddened and most likely bloodied marks. 

“ _Pleasepleasepleaseplease_ ,” Hermione sobbed, thighs spasming rapidly at the effort it took to not come. She wasn’t going to hold out much longer, wasn’t going to last at all if Bellatrix kept fucking her. 

Finally, _finally_ , Bellatrix’s other hand snaked down to rub against Hermione’s clit as the older woman bent over her, biting down without mercy on the back of Hermione’s neck for a second before whispering harshly into her ear, “ _Now_ you can come.” 

Hermione did not need to be told twice as her body convulsed, clenching hard around Bellatrix’s still moving fingers as she screamed into the couch cushion to muffle the noise however slightly. She definitely saw stars as her body began to relax slowly by the second, until her legs pathetically gave out and she let herself drop to the couch completely. 

There was very little reprieve before pale, sticky hands were gripping onto Hermione’s hips and forcing her to turn back around onto her back once more. She had only a moment to blink up at the ceiling in confusion before she felt Bellatrix moving up her body, and then her gaze of the white ceiling was blocked as Bellatrix sat directly on her face. 

Hermione’s moan of surprise and arousal was completely muffled by the woman’s bare center. She had removed her underwear at some point while between Hermione’s legs, and now there was nothing stopping Hermione from feeling and tasting the woman in her entirety. 

She was soaked. Hermione could feel it seeping all over her mouth and chin, thin black curls tickling her nose and wetting that as well as she shoved her tongue as far in as she could get it, silently reveling in the way Bellatrix’s hips stuttered at the intrusion. 

Two could play the rough game, Hermione thought to herself, shifting until she was comfortable and sliding her hands under Bellatrix’s dress, her fingers digging into her bare ass. 

“Fuck me, Hermione,” Bellatrix groaned as she began rolling her hips in a matching pattern, clearly wholly desperate for release after pleasuring Hermione so thoroughly. 

Well, who was she to not obey such a breathy command? Hermione dragged her tongue in and out of Bellatrix quickly, one of her hands moving to circle rough, sloppy movements onto Bellatrix’s clit. 

Bellatrix’s hand wound itself through Hermione’s curls, grasping a handful of the locks at the roots and tugging without mercy, enough so that Hermione had to stop her actions to cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Keep going,” Bellatrix ordered, tugging once more, even harder, and Hermione felt tears prick her eyes from the sensation. 

It was fucking heart stopping, and Hermione had to force herself to revamp her efforts on Bellatrix in retaliation, swapping her tongue for two fingers and giving the woman sitting on her face no indication of the change until they were inside her. 

“ _Fuck_.” 

The angle was a bit weird, and Hermione could feel her hand cramping up already, but she didn’t care in the slightest, not as she licked earnestly at Bellatrix’s clit and kept fucking her hard and deep, loving the way it felt to have Bellatrix’s hips rolling down quickly against her face, or the way she seemed to suck Hermione in deeper with each thrust. 

Hermione forced a third finger inside of Bellatrix, giving her no time to adjust. She felt herself get wet again at hearing how loudly the woman cried out and how her grip in Hermione’s hair tightened that much more. 

“Make me come,” Bellatrix ordered, looking down to make eye contact with Hermione as she rode her face. “Make me come now, Hermione.”

That sounded like the best thing in the world right in this moment, and Hermione eagerly obeyed, her tongue moving quicker and quicker against Bellatrix’s clit as she forced all three fingers as deep inside of her as she could. 

Bellatrix moaned out her loudest noise yet, bending forward slightly to use the armrest to support her weight, momentarily breaking eye contact when her’s fell closed. 

Well, that wasn’t acceptable. 

Hermione pulled back and watched with partial amusement as Bellatrix was quick to glare down at her. “Keep looking at me,” Hermione explained before diving back in, glad she didn’t need to ask twice as Bellatrix struggled to keep her eyes open. 

“I’m- close.”

It didn’t need to be said, but Hermione could hear the truth in the way Bellatrix struggled to form the words, feel how it became harder to fuck her as she kept clenching tightly around her fingers. Hermione continued her assault on Bellatrix’s clit, and it was only a few more swipes of her tongue before she tipped over into her orgasm. 

Hermione could do nothing but watch her ride it out, unable to really move her fingers from the tight way Bellatrix’s entire body was convulsing and clenching on top of her. It lasted maybe only a few seconds before Bellatrix relaxed, letting herself fall backwards and away from Hermione, her breathing loud and irregular, her eyes closed as she struggled to catch her breath. 

After a moment of both of them trying to get their bearings, Bellatrix let out a throaty chuckle. “My, my, Granger, that was certainly something.” 

Certainly something indeed. Hermione wanted to go again, and again, and again. And probably would have tried, if her body didn’t feel detached from itself all of the sudden as she struggled to move into a sitting position. 

She remained sitting for a long while, both of them seemingly content to sit in the comfortable silence before she stood on shaky legs. She tried to collect her carelessly discarded clothing, her cheeks flushed red from exertion and a linger sense of embarrassment over what just happened. She could not believe she just had sex with Bellatrix Black on Harry and Ginny’s living room couch. Drunken, rough, amazing sex. 

Tonight, despite her apprehension in the beginning, definitely turned out to be one of the best nights of her life. 

Bellatrix lounged leisurely against the couch, grinning like the cat that got the canary as she watched Hermione stumbling around the room and struggle to get each garment on her trembling limbs. “Your shirt is backwards, Granger.” 

“Oh.” Hermione huffed as she looked down at herself, finding her t-shirt in the wrong direction. She shimmied it around quickly and then stalled, unsure what to do. Did she invite Bellatrix up to her room? Did she say nothing? Her mind was still cloudy with sex and beers and her thoughts were beginning to get the best of her. 

The dark witch seemed to pick up on it, for she bent down to grab her underwear, the only piece of clothing she had bothered to remove, and slipped it up her legs slowly, most likely enjoying knowing she had Hermione’s complete attention. 

“Well,” the woman said once she stood up. “You made this night infinitely more bearable.” She walked on slightly wobbly legs, which sent a surge of hormonal pride though Hermione, towards the fire place. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Hermione Granger.” Just before she threw the powder and said her home, she looked at Hermione and grinned. “Merry Christmas.” 


End file.
